One For the Angels
by EveningInHornersCorners
Summary: Memories can wreak havoc, causing mental and physical pain alike, sometimes enough to drive a person over the edge. And if there were a miracle cure for this damage, who wouldn't take it?


"_Of all the home remedies, a good wife is best."_

_-Kin Hubbard_

There are times the tortures he endured because of the Tunnel come back to haunt him. The effects of the rack linger on, if ever so slightly, though it's been who knows how long since that happened. The eternity of too little sleep and food have taken their toll. Some nights he is ridden with insomnia, others are filled with vivid, terrifying nightmares he can't shake.

He sees some irony there; he lived through so many of the horrors of the past without so much as flinching, just staying calm, calmer than he probably should have in the ever-present face of death, but, as safe as he is _now_, recollections of what happened petrify him beyond measure.

It seems that he goes blind during these times, and his mind enters a literal "twilight zone"; shadows reign supreme, yet they are not quite shadows; thoughts, ideas surge through his brain like electric charges; they are as fleeting as a blinking eye, but somehow still able to leave hideous images eternally burned into his eyes.

Everything begins spinning. Thousands of faces, scenes, in sharpest focus and all shades of gray, parts of yesterday's incubus or tomorrow's apocalypse, tumble and shift aimlessly, as if they are contained within a decolorized kaleidoscope.

And the voices! Some he heard only once, others countless times; some shout obscenities, others fail at playing peacemaker. They speak a thousand tongues.

But he knows them all.

He starts seeing double and his whole body throbs, pulsing pain shooting up and down every single capillary as the aftermaths of the various injuries he suffered over the years amalgamate into one driving force, set on hurting him as much as possible. The pictures and voices start to close in and the gray begins to darken, slowly but yet at the same time too quickly making the transition to an inky black.

He is sure he has found Satan's Kingdom. For what he has found it, however, he isn't sure.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees that the darkness has not engulfed the entire vicinity.

He turns his head, painful as such an action is, and faces the golden aura. His vision slides back into place, the pain is halted in the middle of an excruciating pulsation, the faces, the voices—they all disappear. The entirety of his darkness subsides almost immediately as the warm, candle like light gently fills the room.

She's really beautiful when she sleeps.

###

When the three of them—Ann, Maureen, and she—go to raid the antique and consignment shops downtown, there's always a smile lingering on his lips. Such a close-knit trio, and when they're together—his two sisters, Ann, the elder by heart, if not blood, and Maureen, the younger by both, and his wife—they glow more than thrice as brightly as one of them would alone.

She always has that golden aura about her, whether in a group or flying solo. Does anyone else see it? The General? Doug? Ray? He doesn't know.

###

If looked at one way, leaping blindly into the corridors of history was the worst thing he had ever done; after all, years after they'd been safely returned home, _years_, was he not still plagued by what he had seen and heard? And did not such memories cause him the worst kind of pain he had ever known?

But, looked at another way, it was by far the best thing he ever did. He found a woman who thought of herself as almost worthless.

And twice he saved her.

It was just him the first time, coaxing her out of her initial plans of self-sacrifice and guiding her to safety.

But the second time around there were many more people involved—Doug, everyone at the Tic Toc base, and a very talented neurosurgeon whose name he has never learned, but, nonetheless, is eternally indebted to.

And without time travel, she would not be here, and, at that, probably dead in her own time period.

Then where would he be? Living alone in an apartment, collapsing under the weight of fear, contemplating suicide himself? He shudders to think.

So he does not think about such things. He tries, as hard as he can, to live in the moment. And even when those moments consist of the memories tearing at his mind and he's ready to give up, he knows just one look at her golden aura will cure everything.

He saved her twice, but she's saved him so many more times than that.

She really is one for the angels.


End file.
